


something (almost) new

by marblecats (kitthefox)



Series: something new [2]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Boys Being Boys, Fights, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitthefox/pseuds/marblecats
Summary: Another perspective on a chance meeting (and a scrap) on a friday night.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Till Lindemann
Series: something new [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098797
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	something (almost) new

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at the same time as the original story when I initially planned to write each scene twice from each boy's POV. Decided against that pretty quickly but kept the scraps of the first part.
> 
> To cheer myself up, I have edited them into something readable if anyone is interested.

Scholle sees him easily from across the room, glowering around a bottle of beer with the most intense look in his eye. Glaring right at Scholle so that he feels completely see through, like this boy can see his very soul though his chest. Because he _can_ see when that gaze slips downwards across Scholle's bare torso. He even thinks he spots a tongue darting across a bottom lip but that could just be wishful thinking and spilled beer. 

He finds himself trying to catch his eye, playing wilder, more energetic, he wants him to look at him. Scholle gives his most frenetic performance, makes himself as eye-catching as possible and revels in that deep, dark gaze. 

In the back of his mind as he sings his back up lines, he considers that he could have this all wrong. The ecstasy of playing, of being adored could be warping his senses and this boy might be dangerous. That glare could be angry, he's certainly big enough to do damage should he so wish. His shirt pulls tight across his shoulders and arms, they're toned and broad and inviting. For the first time ever, Scholle finds himself wishing he wasn't playing so he could introduce himself and find out what sort of dangerous he is. 

In a break between songs Scholle watches him ask for another beer and the pretty girl flashes him an equally pretty smile as she hands it over. Scholle absolutely doesn't feel glee rising in his belly when it doesn't get her anywhere. Broad, dark and mysterious merely nods and drains a good amount of the beer bottle in one go. 

Briefly Scholle frowns, he seems troubled even from all the way across the room. He glances at the door frequently and pulls the label from his beer bottle with nervous ruthlessness. Scholle wonders what could possibly have such a pretty face so upset, then he tells himself off for being so shallow. 

Before he can think too much about it, the next song starts and it's Scholle's favourite to play so he throws himself into it. When he's playing he feels good and alive, and he feels like he could perhaps charm broad, dark and mysterious strangers into bed. By the time the song has finished he looks up, breathless and elated, the seat is empty. The sense of disappointment is immediate and crushing, Scholle swallows around it. It's been a long time since someone caught his eye like that and now they've just upped and gone. Fuck. 

He plays the rest of the gig in a moody fury, and of course it's one of the best he's ever played. His band mates are impressed and slap his back and press bottles of beer into his hands when they come off stage. A handful of pretty people approach him but they're not broad enough or mysterious enough to pique his interest tonight. 

Gert smirks at him. "Still thinking about that guy?"

Scholle blanches and forces himself not to cough when he swallows his mouthful of beer. He didn't realise he was that obvious, or maybe these people just know him too well. 

"Maybe." He grumbles into the bottleneck. He might as well go for it now then. "He was familiar, do we know him?" 

Gert shrugs. "Think he plays drums, seems a bit weird." 

Scholle frowns, that seems uncharitable. The arms and shoulders make sense though if he plays drums he supposes. Gert rolls his eyes and shoves him in the side. "Come on, stop mooning over random men and join the party. You were on fire tonight, celebrate."

It's Scholle's turn to roll his eyes, these are his friends after all and they mean well. Another bottle is pressed into his hands with a wild grin and he lets himself join the fun, thoughts of dark and stormy eyes settling at the back of his brain.

Two weeks later and Feeling B are being incredibly noisy and the energy is electric. Scholle spots him easily because the one tall brooding boy in the corner sticks out like a sore thumb. Scholle can't stop himself from smiling at the sight, he does look good after all. From asking around, he's learned a bit more about him. His name is Till, by all accounts he's a nice guy but a little bit strange and he does occasionally whack a drum set and he isn't that bad at it. If nothing else, they can talk music, Scholle thinks. 

After a few minutes of gathering his courage, Scholle heads over to him, beer in hand. It turns out to be a mistake when someone crashes into him and he goes careening straight into broad, dark and mysterious (Till he reminds himself.) The beer goes all over the front of Till's shirt and Scholle steels himself for an inevitable reaction, but instead he gets two strong arms wrapping around him and holding him upright. Scholle tries to form words to speak to his saviour but before he can, the person who bumped into him hisses something unsavoury somewhere behind him. 

He offers Till a slight smile of apology and turns to confront his new best enemy. He doesn't notice at first that Till is right there with him but when he takes a steadying step backwards he nudges into a firm, warm body. It distracts him somewhat but not enough to miss the glass bottle that shatters just inches above his head. His relief at not being hit is short-lived when he registers that it's been smashed against Till. He sees red and launches himself blindly at who he decides is responsible for bottling his broad, dark and mysterious boy. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Till floor someone with one swing and a bolt of hot desire shocks his stomach out of nowhere. 

He doesn't get time to contemplate that or to do any further damage because they're dragged apart and sent away from the gig like naughty school boys. Till's breathing hard enough to send clouds into the cold air, Scholle can't help but grin up at him. He can taste the blood in his mouth but the adrenaline coursing through him overrides any concern. 

He sticks his hand out to Till. "Sven, but call me Scholle." He grins then falters a little. "If you want." Till barely reacts apart from to offer his own name and shake Scholle's hand politely with his huge warm bear paw of a hand. Scholle is absolutely not smitten, but he does notice a red trickle traversing down a scarred cheek. He keeps hold of Till's hand and drags him underneath a nearby light so he can see where it's coming from. Till offers no resistance and goes with him willingly which is a surprise, but a nice one. 

There's a fairly sizable cut on the side of his forehead, presumably from the bottle, Scholle is immediately furious again. He lifts a hand without really thinking and pokes at the cut to see how deep it is, not very, but it is bleeding quite a bit. His hand comes away with blood on his fingertips and his fury melts into indignation. "Why did you get involved?" He demands, incensed that someone would put themselves in harm's way for him. He wipes the blood off on the front of Till's ruined shirt as a sort of weird punishment.

Till tells him that getting involved seemed like a good idea at the time with a nonchalant shrug which only serves to rile Scholle further. 

"Do you get in many fights because they seem like a good idea?" He snaps back. Till is unfazed however and merely shakes his head with the ghost of a smile on his face. 

"Only when the boy in my arms decides to start one." Is what he says and if Scholle isn't mistaken there is the barest tendril of flirtation laced in his tone.

Oh. Well. 

Scholle chuckles, feeling pleasantly surprised rather than angry. He sizes up his new friend, because he's already decided that he does like him. Up close he isn't that much taller than Scholle but he does appear more intimidating by the sheer bulk of him. His eyes are soft though, and they seem to be permanently sad and puppyish. "Do you live near here?" Scholle eventually ventures bravely, hoping that Till won't turn him down. 

He has a quick look around as though he has forgotten where they are. A flash of recognition crosses his face when he peers into the darkness in a particular direction and he confirms that he doesn't live far from here. Scholle watches him visibly consider something for a moment, he waits quietly, hopefully.

"Do you want to come back with me?" Till says casually, though he looks anything but. "Get cleaned up?" 

Oh does Scholle want that. He wants to go home with him and do unspeakable things to him, but he'll settle for a first aid kit and another drink for the moment so he schools his features into a smile and nods. He feels so giddy that he offers his pack of smokes to Till who takes one with a slightly bemused expression. He lights it with his own lighter, which has Scholle a little annoyed. He must have his own smokes somewhere but he doesn't say anything, just sets off after Till and pesters him with questions about everything he can think of to fill the silence. It's unnecessary though, there is no silence. They talk as though they've known each other their whole lives and it makes Scholle both excited and nervous in equal measure. By the time they get to Till's, he finds that the nervousness has won out. _Ah fuck._


End file.
